


Until You Break

by Crossroads_Castiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, M/M, Sex in the Impala, Smut, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossroads_Castiel/pseuds/Crossroads_Castiel
Summary: Castiel had come to him after he'd called and said he needed him. Dean had been on the wrong side of too much bourbon and Castiel always came when Dean called. He was the only damn one. Castiel found him in the bar with his head on the table and had propped him up by the arm and gotten him into the back of the Impala. Dean had flopped over the seat and Castiel had gone to sit in the front but Dean's neediness seeped through and he gripped the sleeve of the Angel's coat and asked him to sit in the back with him. He'd ended up with his head in Cass' lap, working through the alcohol and waiting to sober up. He dozed off several times and he felt the tentative pull of Castiel's gentle fingers through his hair when he didn't think he was awake. Damn his Angel for loving him like this. He didn't deserve his love. He wasn't good enough. Case in point, here he was sobering up from a bad night of drinking in the lap of a friggin Angel. He was broken and he didn't deserve Cass.





	

**Author's Note:**

> YES. I use the shortened version, Cass vs. Cas, since it is the canonically written way. I understand not everyone likes or wants to read fics with it spelled that way, so fair warning XD

Dean was on all fours, getting the best sex of his life. The Impala's leather seats squeaked in protest as his sweat dampened hands slid across the back seat, clamoring to grip onto anything. His pants were around his ankles and fingers belonging to a familiar set of hands were digging into the flesh of his hip. Dean's rapid, ragged breaths were steaming up the interior as the cold wind tried to seep into the warmth of the car. This...this had not been the plan, that was for damn sure, but as Castiel slid in and out of him, popping his prostate every few thrusts, Dean couldn't find the words to disagree that it felt right. They both were angry, at one another and at life in general. Neither of them could catch a break and drowning their sorrows in each other had turned into a heated romp in the backseat. Finally doing something about the tension always present between them had felt like finally closing his eyes after days on the road. Relief. 

Castiel had come to him after he'd called and said he needed him.Dean had been on the wrong side of too much bourbon and Castiel always came when Dean called. He was the only damn one. Castiel found him in the bar with his head on the table and had propped him up by the arm and gotten him into the back of the Impala. Dean had flopped over the seat and Castiel had gone to sit in the front but Dean's neediness seeped through and he gripped the sleeve of the Angel's coat and asked him to sit in the back with him. He'd ended up with his head in Cass' lap, working through the alcohol and waiting to sober up. He dozed off several times and he felt the tentative pull of Castiel's gentle fingers through his hair when he didn't think he was awake. Damn his Angel for loving him like this. He didn't deserve his love. He wasn't good enough. Case in point, here he was sobering up from a bad night of drinking in the lap of a friggin Angel. He was broken and he didn't deserve Cass. The Angel said nothing as Dean laid there with his eyes open, swallowing back the tears that always fought to fall after he'd had too much and called him. They'd been here so many times. So many times when Sam was asleep in the hotel room assuming Dean was hooking up at the bar, he'd been in the backseat of the Impala, his head in Castiel's lap, sobering up. 

They both knew they loved each other, but there were too many walls in the way, and it made them both miserable. Only when Dean had too many drinks did he even allow himself to sit here in the quiet with him. Only this time, Sammy wasn't in the hotel waiting for him. He'd left. He and Dean had gotten in a huge fight and he'd rented a car and he'd left. He'd be back. Sam was too afraid of what Dean would do without him there as the voice of reason, but he wasn't here now. He rubbed his head against Castiel's lap, like a friendly cat, and Cass grumbled at him. 

"Dean, you're drunk. No."

That was Castiel's hard rule. He'd let Dean rain kisses on him, they'd occasionally even make out like teenagers in the backseat, but never further, and never when Dean wasn't clear headed. Dean could remember all the times he'd stumbled back into the hotel room, feigning a hangover with hickeys on his neck. Sam always assumed they were bar girls. Never had he suspected they had been made by the lips of the Angel they knew so well. Dean was ashamed that he'd lied to Sammy about it but he did, over and over. What was worse is that Castiel would disappear again until Dean called him. He felt like he was using him. 

Dean sighed and rested his head back in Cass' lap, waiting for the alcohol to leave his system so he would allow them to touch. It wasn't like he could lie. Castiel need only touch him to know if he was drunk or sober. Dean looked up into Cass' hypnotically blue, overly kind eyes and he let him see all the sorrow, the shame, the guilt. 

"I know, Dean. I know."

Castiel had once offered to cure Dean's drunkenness but Dean had refused. He knew it would give Cass no reason to sit here with him. He was just that selfish. He knew once he put his lips to the Angel's, there would be no more no coming from his lips. So, Dean waited and studied Cass' face. They didn't talk. Castiel gently ran his hands through Dean's hair as he felt the alcohol leaving his system and Dean pulled him down to press their mouths together. Dean knew he tasted of beer and bourbon but Cass always acted like he was the most amazing creature on the planet and Dean couldn't get enough. He slid his tongue into Castiel's mouth and Cass met him there with his own. Dean had been the one to teach him how to French Kiss, and Lord was Cass a quick learner. Dean sat up, mostly in Cass' lap still and he shrugged Castiel's trench off his shoulders and tossed it in the front seat. Dean shrugged out of his top shirt and it met a similar fate. 

"Dean..." Castiel's tone was warning, gravely and deep enough to feel like it was touching his soul again.

"Shut up." Dean bit back, untucking his shirt and sliding his hands underneath it to touch the muscled flesh. Castiel groaned and shuddered under his hand and Dean nipped his neck. The chaste Angel arched into his touch and Dean knew he would do whatever Dean wanted, whatever Dean needed. Dean needed him. 

"Cass...I want you. Please." Dean whispered into his ear and he felt the tremor in the Angel's spine. Castiel nodded his consent against Dean's stubbled cheek, even knowing that tomorrow Dean would act like it had never happened. He loved Dean more than he deserved. Dean straddled Castiel's lap, rubbing his growing, clothed erection against Cass and the Angel met Dean thrust for thrust. Dean began frantically unbuttoning Castiel's dress shirt, his fingers shaking nervously, so afraid Cass would change his mind. Dean needed him so much. He got the last button off and ran his hands up his chest and let his hands slide up to the shoulders and slide the shirt off. Cass tugged the sleeves down and off. It took Cass much less time to remove Dean's shirt and Dean was wrestling with the Angel's belt as Cass yanked his jeans down and gripped Dean's dick in his solid, strong hand. Things had never, ever gone this far. 

Dean went to kiss Cass when the Angel gripped his hips and moved him to the seat, yanking his own pants down to below his hips before positioning Dean on all fours beside him. He yanked Dean's pants down to his knees and Dean looked over his shoulder to see Cass sliding his fingers into his mouth. Goose bumps raced up his arms as Dean felt Castiel slide a finger near his center. Dean breathed deeply. He'd asked for his. He wanted this, and when Cass slid a slick finger in, Dean cried out his name. It was a sharp, short pain and Dean knew this was not the best protocol but he didn't care. When Castiel moved the finger in and out of him, Dean writhed. He whimpered. He cursed. He begged. Cass spit on his own hand and slid another finger in, never talking except for the occasional whisper of a prayer of Dean's name. When Cass found Dean's prostate with his fingers, a beginner's luck kind of accident, Dean's grunts of pleasure didn't even sound like himself to his own ears. They were the sounds of a desperate man. When he came from Castiel's fingers alone, it was a dry orgasm. His dick wasn't even fully hard, but he saw stars and his skin felt alive with electricity. It was after that that he begged Castiel to fuck him. Not to love him but to fuck him. And Castiel complied. He complied with the sound of spitting, Dean feeling him stroke himself wet and he slid himself into Dean's waiting hole. It hurt. It hurt more than Dean had expected, but pain was as constant a friend as Castiel was, always there for him. Cass stopped when he felt Dean's pain and Dean cursed him until he slid in completely, making Dean achingly full. They sat there, both breathing raggedly, afraid to move, afraid one of them would break. 

When Dean slid forward and back, moving Castiel within him, Cass spoke in a language Dean had never heard. Their being joined together this way, it was so right and they knew it. They knew it as much as they knew that this between them would never see the light of day, only the back of the Impala or behind the doors of cheap hotel rooms in the future. Cass began pumping his hips into Dean, moaning with Dean as his hips slapped against his ass. Castiel was not gentle now. He wasn't the chaste Angel withholding kisses from a drunk man. He was fucking into Dean as if this was his last moments. Castiel's fingers dug into Dean's hips, leaving telltale bruises Dean would look at in the bathroom tomorrow, wishing he was there with him. Dean's back glistened with sweat as he moved along with his Angel. Cass was his. Simple as that. Neither could do anything about it, not really, but they belonged to one another. Castiel's strong hand slid down to cup Dean's now erect dick in his and pumped him in time to his own thrusts into Dean's tight heat. Dean panted like a dog, the embarassingly needy whimpers in his throat uncontainable. Castiel was blaspheming like the devil himself, swearing and cursing like a demonic sailor as his pace faltered and he came as hot as fire into Dean. He could feel Castiel deep inside of him and he reveled in the thought before Cass focused his energy on getting Dean to come, which only took a few more strokes of his hand and Dean was spilling himself all over the leather interior.

They both froze there, shuddering in little waves of after shocks, until Castiel slid out of Dean. The pain of his withdrawal was more than just physical. Dean ached for his Angel. They both began righting themselves, throwing on clothes in an embarrassed silence. Dean grabbed his sock and wiped the seat and Castiel's hand and Dean braved his fears to give Cass one chaste kiss before their eyes met and they both knew this would happen again and again until one of them broke. All bets were off who it would be though.


End file.
